The Pon Farr Proposition
by causidicus-anna
Summary: Summary: "How exactly does one become one's mate for purposes of treating pon farr?" Category: Shamy first-time smut. Long live Shamy :D Disclaimer: I do not own any part of The Big Bang Theory - but I enjoy all of it tremendously. Warning: If explicit sex scenes freak you out, make sure to skip this one.
1. Chapter 1

_Pop Pop Pop_ "Amy."

_POPPOPOP_ "Amy."

_POPPOP_ "Amy!"

The door opened, revealing a squinting Amy Farrah Fowler.

"Sheldon, it is nearly midnight. Are you having a problem?" Amy asked, adjusting her robe.

His countenance was grave. "Indeed I am. A problem I'm afraid that you must be party to." He marched past her and sat on what he had recently deemed his side of the couch.

Amy's eyes narrowed as she took a seat beside him. "Sheldon, you can use one of your lighter bran cereals to replace your highest one if your supply has diminished. Their make-up is practically identical. I'm not driving you to Ventura."

Sheldon was silent for a moment. "I think I'm experiencing pon farr," he said suddenly.

Amy blinked. "I am not familiar with that condition."

Sheldon continued, "I figured that perhaps aspects of Vulcan biology would eventually develop in the homo novus, but I was hoping to avoid this particular condition." He looked at her at her for understanding, but her face remained blank.

"It's a blood fever, and if I don't receive treatment soon, I will most likely die."

Amy lifted her hand quickly to his forehead; he flinched. She frowned slightly. "You do not appear to have an elevated temperature."

"Well of course, Amy, it's a _blood_ fever." Sheldon huffed.

Amy let the comment pass and adjusted her glasses. "Since you appear to now be an expert in a biological field that I somehow have no awareness of – what skills do I possess that would contribute to your treatment of pon farr?"

"This is the horribly unfortunate and unsanitary part," Sheldon said, looking down and wringing his hands. Amy looked down as well, feeling her eyes pop open when she glanced at his lap.

"I have three options for vanquishing this…detestable condition," he continued, "I can fight someone to the death, which is frankly impossible without depriving the world of my genius by way of multiple life sentences in prison; I could spend the next few weeks meditating in my office, which is out of the question due to my proximity to a breakthrough in my research, and two weeks directing my admittedly ample mental capacities towards something other than string theory could possibly derail my focus; or I could," he cleared his throat, "take a mate."

Amy was completely silent for a moment. "Hoooo…" she finally let out.

"Oh for Spock's sake - You, Amy! You are who." He interrupted. "Goodness, you're not helping your case that the neurosciences can match the intellectual rigor of the physics disciplines."

Amy ignored his jab, staring at him incredulously. "Am I to understand," Amy began slowly, "that you are enlisting my assistance by proposing that we…mate?

"Well I…" he began in a strong voice, then stopped. "Yes," he muttered in almost petty tone.

"And why has this condition not yet been fulfilled?" she asked, speaking more quickly now, "we are in a relationship with the paperwork to verify."

"But we are not 'mates.' We have a relationship of the mind accented with minimal physical contact, which is the ideal relationship for an evolutionarily advanced creature such as myself. But… it seems that I must accept the horrifying aspects of my homo novus status with its vast benefits," he said with genuine sadness.

Amy did not register his despair, and continued looking at him as if Ricky had asked for a cup of coffee with his cigarette. "How exactly does one become one's mate for purposes of treating pon farr?"

Sheldon clasped his hands together, squeezing them tight. "Oh, the old 'old-fashioned' way, I'm afraid," he began, deliberately not looking at her. When he did, he mistook Amy's shocked expression for confusion.

"Coitus, I believe," he said, a little hoarsely.

Amy's eyes widened. "Sheldon…"

"I know," he said in an anguished tone, dropping his head in his hands. "This is an unmitigated catastrophe," he mumbled.

Amy stared at his drooped head for a moment. "Question," she said, setting her shoulders, "how do you know that what you're experiencing is indeed the blood fever engendered by a pon farr condition and not simply the result of expired Thai curry?"

"The madness, obviously."

"And to what variety of madness do you refer?"

"I've been having ghastly nightmares for weeks. I wake up covered in perspiration, after which I must take a shower in the middle of the night, seriously disrupting my sleep cycle and consequently my digestion the next day. It feels like there are creatures under my subcutaneous layer of skin that are attempting to rip me skin apart at the seams, and most distressingly, I've been—" he paused.

"Yes?" Amy asked a little too quickly.

Sheldon sighed and turned his head to look towards the remotest corner of the room. "I'm sure you've observed the current aberration at the apex of my thighs," he said quietly.

"I, ah-" Amy swallowed, "And this is a...symptom of pon farr?"

"Well, _obviously._ Vulcans experience it every seven years, though I honestly can't remember a previous occurrence in my own life. Although at one time Spock thought he'd be spared from pon farr completely because of his human blood, and as I am a homo novus, and necessarily human, as well, perhaps it does not manifest as often-"

"I see," Amy interrupted. "Sheldon – may I ask if you've recently imbibed any caffeine?"

"In my condition?" Sheldon asked, scandalized. "Absolutely not! I'm likely to hunt that fool Stuart Bloom down and challenge him to a kal-if-fee."

Amy nodded vaguely and began staring intensely at the outer leg of her coffee table.

"May I also ask," she began again, more carefully this time, "what happens after one in the throes of ponn far takes a mate?"

"You'll remain my mate, of course," he responded offhandedly, looking at the wall. "We'll update the Relationship Agreement accordingly."

Amy sat back against the couch and considered this. "Well," she finally said, lips twitching madly, "this certainly does sound like a serious condition that must be handled swiftly and decisively." She failed to keep the leer out of her voice. Sheldon missed it completely.

"You are correct, Amy."

Amy was rubbing a hand across her mouth, now unable to suppress the physical manifestation of her manic glee. Then suddenly, she frowned. "Sheldon, are you entirely…sure that you are in the suffering from pon farr and that you," she cleared her throat, "desire to terminate your condition by taking me as your mate?"

"Of course – it is the only logical solution. Unfortunately."

Amy nodded absently, all smiles gone, and went back to staring a hole into the coffee table.

He abruptly grabbed her hand, and her head whipped around in surprise. Their faces were inches apart. "Help me, Amy Farrah Fowler." Sheldon gripped their joined hands with his second hand. "You're my only hope."

Amy, eyes wide, simply nodded.

"In that case," Sheldon said, his hand still grasping hers, "in that case, Amy Farrah Fowler, we should initiate the… treatment as soon as possible. Like extracting a band-aid."

"You mean—right now?"

Sheldon's pursed his lips and set his chin.

"Come, Amy," he declared with renewed courage, standing up. "Let us boldly go!" he marched purposely towards the bedroom.

Amy stared after him a moment, then shrugged. "I'll take it." She said to the empty room.


	2. Chapter 2

Sheldon jumped when she turned on the light of her bedroom. "Good god, woman!" he snapped. "In this condition I am as lethal as Ricky without his Marlborough Lights!"

Amy cleared her throat again. "Indeed…" she looked away awkwardly. They were both silent for a moment

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Sheldon asked, a tad unevenly. "Turn out the lights so that I don't have to see as well as feel the tsunami of germs that will envelope the both of us."

Amy nodded and turned off the light before gingerly climbing into bed next to Sheldon, stiff as a board. They were both still a second, and then Sheldon turned onto his side. "I have read that deep-kissing is the most efficient way to initiate physical intimacy."

Amy said nothing, but turned on her side to face him, as well. They began hesitantly scooting closer to each other, until Amy could feel the warmth radiating from his body. She awkwardly lifted her arm to touch the hair above Sheldon's ear, the tip of her nose even with the collar of his shirt. She felt him flinch away from her, but he held her hand in a vice grip whenever she attempted to pull it back.

When he let go, Amy's hand began shakily drifting up and down Sheldon's tense spine. She felt him lightly touch her shoulder in return. Amy began breathing faster and she felt him flinch only slightly this time when her hand drifted up to his cheek.

He gasped as she suddenly squirmed up his body until their noses and lips were even. The thought occurred to her that this was probably the closest Sheldon had ever been to another person.

He began to tremble.

"Sheldon," Amy whispered, taking her hand away for a moment, "do not engage in coitus with me if it is not something that you actually desire. I am confident that the meditation would aid you just as effectively."

"No," Sheldon said as his grip on her shoulder tightened slightly. His teeth were starting to chatter.

Amy hesitated for a second longer, then hesitantly leaned her face into his until their lips touched. Sheldon jumped slightly, but then pushed his mouth abruptly into hers. Amy's limbs melted against him.

She shifted and then opened her mouth against his, her tongue gently touching the inside of his bottom lip. At this invasion, he recoiled away from her harder than he had when she'd first kissed him.

Then her tongue touched his, and he stopped.

"Fascinating," he blurted out against her mouth. Amy barely restrained the ridiculous squeal that bubbled up in her throat, and continued her exploration. "Your field of study is worthy of your intelligence," he mumbled after a beat.

"As is yours," she replied, a little surprised.

"Well, of course-" he began, but she leaned in to kiss him again, and scooted closer until her body pressed fully against his.

She shifted her weight until she was leaning over him on her elbow, the ends of her hair touching his cheek and fingers tracing the side of his head lightly.

Her hand eventually left his scalp, clumsily making its way down his neck, then his chest, then his stomach. Her palm hesitated just over his intestines. Amy glanced up at his face then, and was shocked to realize he looked remarkably close to crying.

Crushed, she leaned her cheek against his chest. "Sheldon, listen," he cut her off by gripping her hand and shoving it roughly over his erection. Amy was the one to flinch this time, but he kept it there. Swallowing, she experimentally ran her finger over the tip of his penis through his pants, feeling his body go totally stiff, but not asking her to stop.

She unbuckled and unzipped him, and then her hand continued its unsteady journey downward. When her hands reached his pubic hair, his teeth began chattering again. She was honestly feeling panicky, as well. It wasn't too late to back out.

_But what if this is your only chance._

She swallowed again and grabbed his penis with her bare hand. He stopped shaking and instead went dead still, completely silent. She peeked up, and saw that his mouth was slack and his eyes were wide. Instinctively she kissed him again, and began to move her hand gently up and down. His grip on her shoulders tightened.

She breathed faster into his mouth and sped up her stroking. The muscles in his calves were tensing and relaxing against the sheets.

"Sheldon, I am ready to engage in intercourse." Amy breathed. "Are you?"

Sheldon swallowed, but nodded.

Amy pulled her sweatshirt and t-shirt over her head, then her cami, then reached behind her back, hesitating a second before unfastening her bra. She reached behind herself again and there was a tiny muted sound of a zipper. She pulled it down her hips, naked now except for her tights.

Feeling intensely awkward, she flopped down onto her back with her knees in the air wrestled her tights and underwear ungracefully from her hips up to her foot. Then she put her legs down and turned to look at him, fully naked stretched out on top of her comforter. Sheldon was staring directly at her.

More self-conscious than ever now, she hoisted herself up on her elbows and then crawled over to him. He still didn't move away.

She grabbed the hem of his shirt, tugging it up, but gripped her hand and shook his head fearfully. She nodded and pulled the covers on the bed down so that they could both be underneath them.

Her hand, and then gradually her whole body, disappeared under the covers to work his pants and socks off.

Finally she was face to face (she supposed) with his boxers. She felt around his hips for the elastic, feeling her mouth go dry as she pulled them down his hips, taking special care to stretch it so that it reached over his erection. Then, suddenly, they were both naked. Sort of.

She quickly re-emerged from under the covers, the cotton of his shirt brushing against her breast. She felt the horrifying urge to squeal again.

Instead, she hesitantly grabbed his erection with her fingertips, positioning it straight up.

She saw him peek down his stomach under the covers for a moment, then looked away with his eyes shut tight and lips pursed.

At first Amy felt only intense pressure, then she whimpered in pain, squeezing her eyes shut when the head of his penis pushed through. _Temporary, temporary, temoporary_ she repeated to herself. Her eyes flew open in surprise when she felt something clammy and hot cover her knuckles on the bed. She looked down, seeing his pale hand gripping hers. She gripped his hand back, squeezing it harder at each twinge of pain as she sank down on him.

Finally she was sitting fully on his lap, his entire penis completely inside of her. She took a deep breath, and let it out unevenly as the sharp pain began to recede.

After a moment, she placed her hands on either side of his head, lifting herself up and lowering herself back onto him experimentally.

Soon she settled into a rhythm, pushing herself on and off. It was the most marvelous feeling she'd ever experienced. His eyes remained squeezed shut, but hand began opening and closing against her thigh.

"Faster," he whispered, but barely.

She sucked in breath and doubled her pace, the covers falling down her back. She couldn't believe this was happening.

"Amy," he whimpered. Then suddenly, he grabbed her hips and slammed them against his. Amy's eyes widened, as she felt him grow inside of her, followed by a shuddering, almost desperate groan. She did not know he was capable of making such a noise.

After a few moments he let go of her and gently leaned back against the pillow, a glassy expression on his face. "Can I keep-" Amy asked breathlessly. His expression clouded.

"Yes," he answered uncertainly.

She resumed grinding against his pelvic bone, and he yelped in surprise. As her body began to tense, she felt the pads of his fingers hesitantly touch her waist. Her stomach dropped and she stopped dead, scrunching up her face and baring her teeth as wave after wave of intensity coiled out of her stomach. It felt much different than electrode stimulation.

When it faded completely, she collapsed on top of him, elated and overwhelmed but, frankly, terrified. As her mind raced, she felt his fingers run over the mole in the middle of her back.

"I love you, Amy," he blurted out.

Amy felt the air leave her lungs. "I love you," Amy answered, her voice breaking. "I love you so much, I have for a long time, I—" she babbled, then stopped abruptly. His hands had moved from her shoulders to his sides. Taking the hint, she rolled off him onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, completely at a loss of what to do next.


	3. Chapter 3

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sheldon gingerly turn away from her, curling his legs into his chest and putting his hands on his head.

Amy's ears started ringing. "Sheldon," Amy whispered at his back. He didn't respond. She felt ill. "Would a shower be amenable to you right now?" she asked with sudden inspiration.

She saw the back of his head bob up and down. Amy swallowed and got out of bed, holding out her hand to him. He didn't take it, but climbed out of bed and followed her lead.

Suddenly they were facing each other naked in the harsh light of the bathroom. _Well, this was a great idea_, Amy thought with some mortification. She studiously avoided his gaze, turning on the heat, getting towels, and turning on the water. Sheldon glanced at himself in the mirror.

She accidentally brushed past him on her way out of the bathroom, almost jumping ten feet in the air when her bare stomach touched his hips. "I'll be available if there is something you require," she said as normally as she could muster.

"Wait, Amy," he said. She turned around expectantly. "Won't you be taking a shower, as well?"

Amy shifted. "I was going to change the sheets on the bed."

He blinked. "It would be more logical for you to shower with me so that we might efficiently get clean, and then the new sheets would not be in any danger of being soiled."

Amy's chest squeezed her heart. "OK, that is indeed logical," she conceded, brushing a piece of hair out of her face. Sheldon nodded and climbed into her shower quickly. She left the bathroom for a moment, and then reappeared and stepped carefully into the shower with a blue square in her hand. "It's a brand new sponge," she explained. "Its primary use is for dishes, but it should clean the flanks of human beings just as effectively."

Sheldon looked at her a moment. "Thank you," he said cautiously, holding out his hand. She put the sponge into it, her fingertips brushing his palm lightly. He put the sponge on the bath rack, then grabbed her shampoo and began scrubbing his hair meticulously out of the stream of water. After he rinsed and opened his eyes again, he nudged her and they awkwardly maneuvered until she was under the water, her hair melting onto her face. She didn't feel very attractive and, somehow, felt more naked than before.

As she contemplated her growing resemblance to the Wicked Witch of the West, Sheldon squeezed the conditioner into his hair, beginning to move his fingers in the same roughly energetic pattern as he had with the shampoo. After a couple of minutes he nudged her again, and they switched a second time. Squeezing the shampoo into her hand, she tried to remember his pattern of scrubbing and copied it, looking towards the bottom corner of the shower to avoid any possible eye contact.

As her arms fell to her sides he maneuvered them once more until she was under the water again. When she opened her eyes, she was greeted with a whiter than usual Sheldon waiting to take his place under the spray. Amy glanced quickly at his face as they switched places, and felt a thrill of relief that finally, _finally_, he looked more relaxed.

When it was her turn to wash the conditioner out she turned away from him and instead focused on the shower caddy, though rather conscious of her backside being in full view. As the conditioner ran down the drain, she waited for the sound of him stepping out of the shower so that she could begin the process of washing her body. Somewhat oddly, considering what they'd just done, the thought of washing herself in front of him filled her with a sense of paralyzing dread.

When he still hadn't left after a minute or two, she reluctantly decided that she couldn't put off the task any longer. Plus, she'd never been the type to let an irrational fear dictate her behavior. She turned the showerhead against the wall and picked up the sponge, rubbing it against the soap. Feeling his presence acutely now, she swallowed, moving the sponge awkwardly to her right forearm for a moment, and then changed her mind and moved it to her left shoulder.

"Amy Farrah Fowler, I refuse to entertain this chaos," he said impatiently, grabbing the sponge from her. She turned around in surprise to see him rub the sponge vigorously against the soap bar again. He put his hand against the wall for balance and began scrubbing her neck with quick, hard strokes until it was covered in white foam. She closed her eyes, feeling warm as he ran the sponge over her breasts and her stomach a little too roughly.

Her eyes snapped open when he suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her and nudged her feet apart slightly, running the sponge briskly up and down her bare legs. She put a hand against the back wall of the shower for balance and hoped that this wouldn't lead to a highly uncomfortable emergency room visit. Her stomach coiled suddenly when he paused at her pubic hair, as she had assumed that he would just skip that spot. He didn't.

Amy looked up at the ceiling in irrational embarrassment.

Suddenly the sponge was gone and she opened her eyes in time to see him unceremoniously exit the shower. After a moment she moved carefully underneath the spray, processing for the first time the night's extraordinary turn of events.

When she couldn't hold it back anymore, she wrapped her arms around herself and silently screamed in delight.

* * *

Later, after they'd changed the sheets, Sheldon hesitated as she climbed into bed.

"Sheldon, I will keep to my side. It will feel like you are sleeping by yourself." He looked like he had grave doubts, but climbed carefully under the covers, pulling them up to his chin. Amy heard him snoring five minutes later.

* * *

When she awoke the next morning, the first thing she registered was a warm lump pressed against her back. Her eyes flew open and she felt panic rise until her arm bumped something against her stomach, which upon further examination turned out to be Sheldon's left hand. Looking at his perfectly square cut nails caused her face to inexplicably crumple, like she was about to cry.

At that point, the lump behind her began to stir, the hand on her stomach coming to life. Then it stiffened almost immediately.

They stayed awkwardly spooned for a moment until Amy looked over at the clock and said over her shoulder, "The Next Generation will begin in ten minutes."

A beat of silence, then, "Oh good heavens, you're right!" he exclaimed next to her ear. "How could I have forgotten?"

He suddenly leaped out of bed and ran into the kitchen, calling into her bedroom "Do you have any Big Bran?"

Amy padded into her living room, still rubbing her eyes. Sheldon looked her, then down at his bowl, and then grabbed a second bowl. Amy checked her phone as he noisily banged around her kitchen, opening and closing seemingly every cabinet in the vicinity. When two precisely measured cereal bowls were made, he set them both on the coffee table and found Syfy just as the credits began to roll. As usual, he was immediately engrossed.

Amy sat down carefully next to him, and looked at the TV without seeing or hearing any of Star Trek for at least twenty minutes. She jumped when she felt a light touch on her right shoulder. She looked in puzzlement at her shoulder and saw Sheldon's hand, which was connected to Sheldon's arm, which resting on the top of the couch cushion behind her.

She looked at him in astonishment as he continued to gaze intently at Jean-Luc Picard, but she thought she saw his Adam's apple bob slightly.

Tears prickled her eyes, and with renewed intellectual vigor she attempted to deduce what exactly a Borg was.

* * *

Story dedication: to Graham


	4. Epilogue

**Author's Note**: This epilogue is for ChaliceInnana. Please leave a review if you've enjoyed this, or let me know how you think it could be better. Regardless, I'll be writing more Shamy (because they're awesome.)

* * *

_One year later_

"Why do you care, anyway?" Amy snapped. "You are no longer my boyfriend, our relationship agreement is terminated; and therefore, it is no longer your concern who I do and who I do not associate with."

"Oh, never fear Dr. Farrah Fowler, I most certainly DON'T care," Sheldon shot back. "In fact, if it were possible to care less than not at all, I would fall into that category. But in the interest of dispassionate scientific inquiry, I feel compelled to note that you _don't_ actually see him as your intellectual equal, and your assertion to the contrary offends me on an epistemic level."

Amy regarded him then with a strangely hopeful expression. "Are you jealous?"

Sheldon's mouth dropped open. "What? Am I—good grief—" he sputtered indignantly. "Jealous of that _troglodyte_? He's one DNA sequence away from the primates that you 'study' together."

Amy scooted closer to him on the couch. Sheldon's eyes widened and he attempted to scoot back, but he encountered the arm.

"Perhaps I misspoke," Amy continued, staring directly at him, "does the thought of David defiling my body on our lab table provoke feelings of disgust and/or virulent anger in you?"

Sheldon looked ready to murder David. "Yes!" He spat out.

"Good," Amy said, and kissed him.

* * *

_Two Years Later_

"Come on you old pest, fetch a bottle of your best, what's the nectar of the day?" Sheldon was inflecting his voice to mimic the different Broadway singers for each line. Amy grinned as Sheldon turned up the volume. She couldn't help it – Sheldon was adorable when he got into his show tunes.

"MASTER OF THE HOUSE, DOLING OUT THE CHARM," he belted out, "READY WITH A HANDSHAKE AND AN OPEN ARM." He flung his arm out, almost smacking her in the face. The car swerved slightly.

"Good heavens, Amy!" He exclaimed, interrupting his tune. "No need to drive like a maniac – we're making excellent time."

Amy rolled her eyes.

"Have you called to confirm our reservation for this evening?" he asked.

"Yes, Sheldon."

"And this hotel received five stars on cleanliness from Trip Advisor and Expedia both?"

"Yes, Sheldon," Amy sighed.

"Well I'm _sorry,_ but at least one person between the two of us should be concerned about bedbugs and the rampant disease factories that hotel rooms can be."

At this, Amy smiled slightly and laid a hand on his arm as he continued to pout.

"Sheldon, as a biologist, I can tell you that slight exposure to germs only strengthens your immune system."

"You study smoking monkeys fascinated by hour-long TBS dramas."

"I'm fairly competent in some other areas, as well."

They were both silent for a moment.

"There weren't ANY more shows in California?"

"By the time I realized you were being forced on another vacation, the show had stopped playing in California. And I know Return of the King is your favorite."

Sheldon nodded reluctantly.

"Michigan was the only option." Amy smirked slightly. "And I am not certain whether or not our supplies budget could withstand another Dr. Cooper stint in the biology lab."

"Now you listen here, you little vixen, the last time that I was there—" Sheldon was ready to launch into a tirade.

Amy held up one of the signs that Leonard had made for their road trip.

Sheldon stopped short. "Sarcasm?" He asked.

"Oh, I meant—" she rustled around on the floor and picked up a different sign.

"Oh… teasing. I despise teasing…" he grumbled petulantly.

"Awww Cuddles," Amy intoned, intentionally emphasizing his despised nickname, "I only tease you because I love you—" Amy's mouth snapped shut suddenly. They were normally fairly reserved in the use of that word. And it was mostly communicated by electronic means.

Sheldon's silence indicated to Amy that it hadn't gone unnoticed by him, either.

She gripped the wheel harder, frantically thinking of some way to change the subject.

"I dreamed a dream of life gone by!" blared abruptly out of the speakers, saving her the trouble. Sheldon's face lit up, and he joined Fantine with gusto. From his face and mannerisms one wouldn't have guessed that the song was about abject misery.

* * *

After the Grand Rapids Symphony's live scoring of the Return of the King, Amy took Sheldon into a pub so that they could get a snack; and frankly, so that she could access some liquid patience to more fully appreciate Sheldon's rhapsodizing.

To Amy's utter shock, Sheldon ordered an "extra-despoiled" piña colada from the bartender, which he had to clarify meant with alcohol.

"Did I just witness your intentional purchasing of an alcoholic beverage?"

"Indeed," Sheldon said nonchalantly, sitting down on one of the barstools and chomping on a piece of pineapple.

"I thought that you abstained from alcohol."

"I promised my mother I would not go down the slippery slope of drug and alcohol indulgence in California. As we are in Michigan, this promise is inapplicable. Plus, isn't one supposed to commemorate a major life event with a toast of an alcoholic beverage?"

"Generally, yes," Amy conceded, privately wondering if anyone else would consider this a major life event.

"Then a toast is in order." Sheldon raised his giant curving glass full of white ice and fruit to Amy's white wine. "To Mr. Tolkien and his seminal work of fantasy fiction, without which we would not have had the opportunity to travel hundreds of miles to see a live symphonic score of the third and final movie based on the same property, all of which were satisfactory, though in my personal opinion too many crucial storylines were altered or jettisoned completely—"

"Cheers," Amy interrupted him, clinking her glass against his and taking a rather large gulp of wine.

"Cheers!" Sheldon repeated, unperturbed at her interruption and lowering his mouth to his straw. Amy raised an eyebrow as the level of piña colada in the glass rapidly diminished. "L'chaim!" he added, smacking his lips.

He continued talking animatedly about the different parts of the movie in inexhaustible detail. As Amy listened, she leaned her cheek against her hand, smiling softly as he dissected his experience of the Mordor scenes with the live musical accompaniment versus the normal audio. She was feeling sort of warm.

"And Dumbledore… I mean Gandalf!" he giggled suddenly. "Even though they are in archetypal terms the exact same character, they're both…um…they both are…" he giggled again uncontrollably.

Another wine glass was placed in front of Amy as Sheldon struggled to contain himself. "On the house," the bartender muttered, glancing at Sheldon.

_Amazing_, Amy thought dreamily. _Our love must be as infectious and obvious as an airborne flesh-eating virus._

"I'm really glad you enjoyed it," Amy said as soon as he had control of himself again, still leaning on her hand.

"Enjoyed it? Actually I really...loved it," he said quickly, ducking into his drink again.

Amy quirked her head to the side at that admission—even in her rapidly increasing state of intoxication she realized Sheldon was intentionally going off of their established emotional reservation.

Before she knew what she was doing she put a hand on top of his. "I'm glad," she said with unexpected emotion in her voice.

Sheldon turned to face her without moving his hand. Then, suddenly, he kissed her.

Sheldon very seldom kissed her first, and had never done so in public.

After her initial shock, she came to life and kissed him back, closing her eyes tight and feeling like her chest was opening up and all of her guts were pouring out and some other substance was rushing in to fill their places, but in a pleasant way. She felt this way whenever Sheldon cupped her face during intercourse.

He put a hand on the back of her head, and she gasped as she felt his lips actually open up against hers first. He was practically _ravishing_ her, she thought gleefully. He broke the kiss for a moment. "We must go back to the hotel immediately," he said gravely.

_Code Red_. Amy frantically pulled a twenty out of her purse and slapped it on the bar, hurrying Sheldon out before he changed his mind.

* * *

_Three Years Later_

"And just where do you think you're going?" Sheldon shouted angrily with his hands on his hips.

Amy viciously snatched her hanging keys. "What does it look like, Dr. Cooper?" she quipped over her shoulder as she savagely groped around on the counter for the handle of her purse, "I'm finally LEAVING!" Belatedly, she realized the ominous ambiguity of her words. _Well done_, she thought with malicious satisfaction.

She flung the door open dramatically, expecting to hear him either running after her or commenting on the probability of the door encountering her backside on the way out. But there was only silence. She glanced over her shoulder again to see whether or not he was even still in the room.

Sheldon was standing still under the main overhead light, white with what looked like terror. Amy felt her sense of righteous indignation rapidly deflating, already being replaced with guilt. "Sheldon," Amy sighed, putting her keys and purse on the counter, and making her way back to him.

Sheldon did not acknowledge her change in tone, nor did he move to meet her. She stopped in front of him and leaned her cheek carefully against his chest, resting her hands very lightly on his arms.

"Sheldon, I meant that I was simply extricating myself from my immediate surroundings after a long and heated confrontation. I didn't mean to imply…" she swallowed. She had meant to imply. She put her arms around his neck and squeezed him closer, but he did not squeeze her back as she clung to him. Finally, she felt his hands lightly touch her hair.

"Don't do that again," Sheldon said hoarsely.

"I won't."

* * *

_Five years later_

"Amy, we have to go downstairs!" Penny called into the bedroom. "The photographer is here. And don't forget your bouquet."

Amy looked in the mirror, putting on one last coat of red lipstick. "Coming, Bestie of Honor."

She gathered up the mountainous layers of sparkling tulle and carefully descended the staircase.

"Oh Sweetie," Penny said emotionally, kneeling before Amy to straighten out her dress, "you look just like a princess!"

_Well of course I do_, thought Amy, adjusting her tiara.

* * *

_Ten Years Later_

"Vulcans learn to keep a tight reign over their emotions, Stephen; it keeps them from making the same mistakes of inferior species. Now, let me see your meditation face." Sheldon made an especially serene Koala face at him. Stephen smiled and babbled happily at Sheldon. Sheldon shook his head. "It's your mother's side," he muttered, a tiny smile flitting across his face. He very precisely wiped a sliver of drool from the corner of Stephen's mouth and became serious again. "As an ambassador of the homo novus, though, it's useful to have ways to relate to the hominids among us—"

Amy smacked him. "Ow!" Sheldon yelped. "That hurt, woman." He looked at Stephen again and readjusted the Starfleet symbol on his onesie for the 8th time. "Your mother is a cruel vixen."

Amy smiled, tugging on the skirt of her own Starfleet uniform. "When you are developmentally capable, Stephen, ask your father about his driving lessons. Also, about whose idea this photo was."

"Alright, take your places," the photographer said, smirking. Sheldon, sober as a judge, grabbed Amy's hand and made the Vulcan salute with his other. Amy put her free hand on Stephen's head and attempted a serious expression. Stephen laughed right as the picture was taken.


End file.
